Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses(19)

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“Let him sleep,” her mom said as Abbey peered into her dark high school bedroom. Max was under the covers, his eyes closed. Abbey gasped and pointed, just realizing what she was seeing in the shadows. Two green eyes glared at her. “Is that Señor Freckles curled up at the foot of the bed?” she whispered. “I can’t believe he’s in there with Max.” Then, before she could say anything else, she heard the thud of his paws on the floor and he darted between them and out the bedroom door.

“Isn’t that funny,” her mom said. “I haven’t seen that cat all day.” She stepped back and pulled the door closed, leaving a crack open for light. “Why not just let him sleep? You can drop his things off on your way to work tomorrow.”

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

“How was the decorating?” Gramps called from the kitchen. Abbey hurried down the hallway toward him to keep him from calling out again and waking Max. When she found him, he was dishing out a rather large helping of vanilla ice cream. He raised his eyebrows and pointed to it in offering. She shook her head with a smile and sat down at the table. Her mom joined her.

“It was amazing. I bought a bunch of Christmas trees today. Big, giant ones. They looked so beautiful.”

“Did you see Nick Sinclair?” her mom asked, leaning on her hands, her elbows propped on the table.

“I did. I actually ate dinner with him.”

Her mom’s eyes bulged with interest. “Really? What was it like to be in the presence of a millionaire?”

“Surprisingly not much different than being with anyone else.”

Gramps joined them with his bowl, the ceramic bottom of it rattling slightly against the table as he attempted to set it down with an unsteady hand.

“He’s nice.”

“Is he, now?” her mom said with a grin on her face. “He’s sending you pies for Thanksgiving, having dinner with you…”

“It’s not like that,” Abbey said. She didn’t want anyone mistaking his kindness for anything other than what it was. Nick had only been concerned about her in both instances, and he was just trying to make sure she had what she needed.

“You never know,” Gramps said. “Your grandmother was quite wealthy. Her family owned a restaurant chain. She went to fancy schools and she was quite the southern belle.” Gramps smiled, his forehead creasing in three large folds with his smile, pushing his white hair back just slightly on his head. “I had no business asking her out. I was from a working-class family, and I didn’t feel that I had anything to offer her, but she looked so pretty sitting there at that soda fountain that day that I just had to take a chance and ask her out.”

“And she said yes,” Abbey said, trying to recall her grandmother’s laugh. She always loved her laugh.

“Nope. She said no.”

Mid-memory, Abbey turned and looked at Gramps. “What?”

“She said no. Then she got up and walked out.”

“What did you do?”

“I chased after her. It took me a week. I think Fran finally said yes just to shut me up,” he said with a laugh. “But once she said yes, we were inseparable from that moment on.”

“I can’t remember her laugh,” Abbey fretted. She kept wracking her brain over and over, memory after memory. Fear swept through her as she realized she was losing her memory of Gran.

“It was like bells,” Gramps said, his hands beginning to wobble more than they had. His spoon tapped the inside of the bowl relentlessly. “High-pitched, tinkling giggles. Her eyes would squint and she’d press her lips together as if she wanted to hold it in but always her giggles would escape. I remember it perfectly. God, I miss her laughter.”

Abbey wished she could love someone like that. It occurred to her then that it had been quite a while since Gramps had laughed.

“I’m just saying, don’t rule anything out,” he said. “But you’re not there to get a date anyway. You’re there to work. And it sounds like you’ve gotten a good start.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. She couldn’t agree more, but the pressure to please Gramps was mounting. He’d always pushed her to use her artistic gift, but the truth of the matter was that she had to support her son. That was what made this project so important to her. If she got it right, she could add it to her portfolio, maybe Nick would even mention her name at that Christmas party. She could potentially get clients and make a lot of money, and maybe even be an interior decorator full time. “I have to work in the morning, and then I’ll be back there for a few hours to start on one of the bedrooms.”